


Whipping Boy

by Higgystar



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Kink Meme, h/c, mentions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 23:21:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1706273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higgystar/pseuds/Higgystar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from the kink meme: After their first escape attempt from Terminus doesn't work out, Gareth decides the group need to be punished and the best way of making sure the Ringleader understands his lesson is to take it out on his second in command.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whipping Boy

It hadn’t taken him long to come up with a plan. Being locked in a train car at Terminus gave them a lot of time to come up with escape plans, each of them giving as much information about the place as they could and exploring every inch of their prison. The hatch in the roof is their best bet at getting out of here since they knew the door was bolted shut as soon as it was in place and no matter how much they tried to shift it the damned thing wouldn’t move. No one was tall enough to get their whole strength behind trying to shove the hatch open and it wasn’t possible to lift any of their strongest to manage it either. That’s when Glenn had offered his idea.

Now here they were, running back and forth across the width of the train car, desperately trying to use their weight to rock the damned thing and get it off the rails, trying to use the momentum to sway it. Glenn had said something about a pirate movie and Rick had no idea what the hell that had to do with it, but he’d be damned if the train car wasn’t slowly beginning to rock with them. It’s not an easy thing, but they keep moving, each of them panting with the movement and shoving themselves off one side to run back to the other in unison. The metal is hard on their palms as they slam into it before rushing back to the other side, timing themselves with the centre of balance until one final slam against the side causes it to finally tip.

The wall becomes the floor, the train car hits the earth with a thud and slides a few inches with them all sprawled on the bottom of it before they’re fully aware that the plan had actually worked. With the roof as the side they could now give all their strength towards kicking at the hatch, prying it open and making a mad dash towards the fence. Sure they’d leave behind some weapons, but they had a stash they could use and if they removed all the signs for Terminus they could start a siege, watch as they turned on each other and became weaker in the desperation for food. They could actually do this, together they were strong enough to get through this and survive.

None of them had expected the hatch to be welded shut.

They all try, as a team, as individuals but it soon becomes clear that the hatch isn’t budging an inch, they’d wasted time and energy on a failed escape attempt. Each of them slides to the floor, dwelling on their failure as they try to catch their breath. Rick can see them all in the dim light filtering through the cracks of the metal, all exhausted, all starving and all each of them hoping for a miracle. Glenn holds Maggie close, her utter desperation turning to tears as she clings to him, all hope squashed with their failure.

The new members of his family look pissed, Rosita pacing with her temper flaring just beneath the surface and giving a few useless kicks to the hatch. Abraham clenches his fists, and his face pinches in a way that Rick suspects is biting back every curse word under the sun. Eugene just looks confused, as if there was no way they could have failed so quickly. Tara looks tired and small, her arms around her legs and making herself as invisible as she could in the corner.

Bob and Sasha slump onto each other, she gives him a weak smile across the darkness and he knows it’s her way of saying she doesn’t blame him. It was a good plan in theory, they just hadn’t taken one variable into account. Still Rick knew it was all on him, he’d pushed them to try and he knew there would be punishment from their captors for managing to get so far.

Beside him Carl rests on Michonne, his head on her shoulder in the way he used to with Lori, close to the other woman and catching his breath. His son was still flinching anytime he went near him and that burns at him in a way he hadn’t felt since he’d had to stab Shane in self defence. It’s a gaping wound he can feel himself, and he hates that there’s no way to fix any of this so easily. This world was slowly beginning to eat away at them and he didn’t want to lose who Carl was to it.

“This ain’t on you.” Comes a voice from just behind him and he doesn’t even have to look back to know Daryl is giving him that look, the one he’d given the other man on the road before, when he’d had to convince Daryl that nothing that had transpired was his fault. He gives a slightly amused snort at that, letting his head thud back against the metal of the train car and feeling Daryl do the same beside him. There’s a silent support from his friend beside him and that strength means a lot to him right now.

They don’t have to wait long for their captors to appear, sliding open the door that was now above them and blinding them all with the fresh sunlight of a new day. Rick hates dealing with them, these men and women seemed to have lost any morals they’d ever had and saw this whole thing as a game, with his family as their personal playthings. “Now look what you’ve gone and done.” Gareth sneers at them with an overly dramatic sigh, peering down at all of them with a grin on his face, enjoying their glares back at him.

Rick hates the man, he seems to be the one in charge here and his cheery attitude rubbed him up the wrong way when all he could do was worry about his family’s safety. He can see the men surrounding the doorway, each of them standing on the side of the train car and pointing their guns down on them. There hasn’t been a time they haven’t been kept under the threat of gunfire. It seemed Gareth knew not to underestimate them and wasn’t going to be taking any chances by approaching them unarmed.

“We give you a nice cage to live in and you are so disrespectful that you go and tip it over. You know I have half a mind to leave you in here and let you deal with it, but I don’t feel like climbing up here everyday to tend to you. So you’re very lucky that we have somewhere else for you to stay. Get up, all of you, we’re going to be doing this in order again.”

They all know the order, it’s been drilled into their heads over the last few days when they were called out to be allowed to go to the bathroom one at a time, each one with a gun at their backs to ensure good behaviour. Rick stands, moving to stand in the square of sunlight and gritting his teeth as he feels everyone line up in order behind him. They had them all on a tight leash and it was getting to the point where none of them even thought about fighting against the orders.

“Ringleader, Archer, Samurai, Commando, Mullet, Army Girl, Asian, Farm Girl, Lesbian, Medic, Fire-fighter and Kid.” Rick hates that Carl is always the last in their line up, he hates that there’s such a huge gap left between himself and his son but fighting against it is a risk for Carl and he’s not willing to take that chance. The Terminus folk, or Termites as Glenn had called them, didn’t seem to like names, Rick knew the tactic, the less they appeared to be real people, the easier it was to treat them like animals. Gareth didn’t see them as human, he saw them as objects and that was a dangerous place to be.

He climbs out of the train car, hating when the armed guards grab him by an arm each and haul him out of the opening, pushing him down to the ground and making sure he knew to line up again. Rick watches as the others follow suit, Daryl glaring at the assholes that grabbed at him and spitting at their feet before taking his place behind Rick. It’s not until Carl is lifted out of the train car and set on the ground that Rick feels able to breathe again, even if only for a while as they’re lead towards one of the buildings.

“You know I’ve got to admit, that was a very clever move.” Gareth chuckles, walking alongside him, not even armed and clearly not worried. The other man walked and spoke as if they were simply enjoying a stroll in the morning light together, discussing the day’s events like two friends. “It would have worked too if we weren’t smarter than you all. I mean have you ever tried to catch a rat? You get them in one corner of the room and it doesn’t matter how much you watch to make sure they don’t escape, by the time you pounce, they’ve found another way out. It’s frustrating as hell.”

Rick wonders if Gareth was the sort of child to burn ants with a magnifying glass in the summer. He seemed the type, one of those children he would have told Carl to steer clear of because he was a bad influence. Clenching his fists together Rick knows it would do no good to punch him to the ground, but God the urge won’t stop rearing up inside of him. They’re dealt with worse threats than this man, he didn’t look to be a fighter, he was a strategist, and he knew sometimes they were the most dangerous.

“However, though it was very impressive you do know there are consequences don’t you?” Gareth speaks as if he’s delivering bad news, his face is sympathetic, as if he’s trying to be kind but can’t stop the malicious smile from teasing at his lips. “We can’t just have you keep being so misbehaved and over time we’ve learnt that punishment is needed to keep you in line.” He nods so sincerely, as if he’s a teacher doling out the cane, just verging on using the phrase ‘this’ll hurt me more than you’, and other lies people said to make themselves feel better.

“You going to take away privileges?” Rick asks, he keeps his gaze focussed ahead, not giving Gareth the satisfaction of meeting his eyes, of playing into this game of his. “No more bathroom breaks? No more meals?”

Gareth snorts at that, actually fucking laughing and slapping at Rick’s shoulder as if they were friends joking about. It makes that hatred inside of him flare up again, and he wants to hurt the other man more than anything in the world. Behind him he hears Daryl take in a hiss of air between his teeth and he holds out a hand behind himself, stopping his friend from taking any action even if he sorely wanted him to. “Christ no. Have you ever seen someone covered in their own shit and starving? It’s fucking disgusting and we don’t want you wasting away or diving into squalor just yet.”

Well that was something at least, they weren’t expected to starve, they were expected to live so at least he knew that much. Their lives were safe for the moment, no matter how badly they were being treated, it meant they still had time. They reach a door, a metal one with a large metal bar lock that slid across the front to keep it locked. He knows Gareth shows exactly how much it takes to unlock it to deter them from thinking of escaping again, heaving the metal bar aside before swinging the door open, leading them inside the dimly lit room.

It was nothing more than an empty storage room, Rick could see grooves in the dust where shelving units had been dragged out and left it completely bare. There was nothing in here they could use, they’d made sure of it before bringing them in here. But it was inside, it was dry, there was a little more space and they had light now. It wasn’t much but it was an improvement from the train car; they could work with this.

The guns are still trained on them as they file inside and they indicate for everyone to line up against the back wall, the way prisoners would be on an inspection. It gave them a disadvantage of only having one way to go and with the armed men opposite them, they all knew there was no option of escape during this change of location. It had been thought through completely, it seemed nothing could catch the Termites off guard and make them lose their composure. That wasn’t a good thing, Rick wanted them rattled, people on edge made mistakes and they could find an edge that way.

“Welcome to your new home, isn’t it lovely? We’ll be leaving you to get settled in soon enough, but first your punishment.” And if Rick thought Gareth looked dangerous before, the way he bounces on his heels and grins at them all makes him look more threatening than it should. This man had no fear, they were nothing to him, nothing but playthings for his sick entertainment. “Let’s see,” Gareth begins and Rick feels sick to his stomach when the man begins pointing at them each in turn, moving down the line with each word. “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, catch a tiger by the toe…”

Rick’s appalled and he can tell that the rest of his family are too, each one of them tensing when Gareth points their way before moving on. He hates the relief he feels when someone else is on the receiving end of the finger, but whatever self preservation lingers inside of him rears its head in those moments. Gareth suddenly laughs, dropping his hand and grinning at them all with a shrug. “Who am I kidding? We all know you orchestrated the whole thing Ringleader and you don’t exactly play your cards close to your chest. Punishing you would be the easy way to do things.”

He steps forward, head held high, fists clenched and ready to take what he had to for the group. They’d all known this was coming and now was his time to take it before they began thinking of their next attempt. It didn’t matter how many times they failed, he’d take every single punishment needed to get them out of here. All that mattered was beating these bastards and letting them know that they weren’t going to take this lying down.

Gareth holds out a hand, shaking his head and waving his finger, a crooked smile on his face as he explains. “Of course, I’ve never been one to do things the easy way. Where’s the fun in that? See we’ve found the best way to get to men like you, is to hurt you indirectly. Hurting the ones you’re close to does more damage than a few bruises ever could.”

A shiver of fear runs through his body and automatically Rick is looking down the line to where Carl is still pressed back against the wall, Sasha already reaching out to hold his arm. A small gesture, but one that let Rick knew she would try her best to protect him. All the hatred intensifies within him, Carl has already been through so much and Rick was not going to allow him to go through more pain just because of his choices. “You touch my son, and I will kill you. Do not doubt that for a second.”

“Oh I don’t and lucky for you, beating up little boys is too low even for us. He gets a free pass, this time.” The threat is there, more warnings being put into place all around them, invisible but threatening and burrowing into their minds and letting them know their place. “No, what better way to get to a ringleader than to take down his right hand man?”

Two of the armed men stroll forward, bypassing Rick and grabbing at Daryl from behind him before he can even protest. “Best get your damned hands off me!” Daryl snarls, never one to go quietly, he struggles against the two of them and gets a few kicks in to their shins before the butt of a gun is brought up to smash against his chin. Rick moves to intervene, reaching out to grab at Daryl before a gun is brandished at him, Gareth tutting behind it like an aggravated school teacher.

“Now now ringleader. Back against the wall with everybody else and you take your punishment as intended.” At no point does Gareth put down the gun, clearly aware that violence against one of their own could make people do foolish things, and needing the backup of a weapon to enhance his words. “It may have been your plan, but the Archer will take your punishment. He can be the whipping boy for all of you, I find guilt is a better teacher than pain anyhow.”

Gritting his teeth Rick presses back against the cool concrete of the wall, unable to tear his gaze away from Daryl as ‘their’ punishment is given to him. It starts with punches and kicks to his sides, with Daryl fighting back as much as possible, swearing and spitting at the other men, clearly aware the weapons were not going to be used. Daryl gives as good as he gets, catching one of them off guard enough to tackle him to the floor for a brief moment, but he is outnumbered and still injured from before and it’s not long until he’s curled on the floor, trying to protect himself as best he can.

The kicks to his sides are heavy, causing Daryl to gasp and Rick can feel each one as if they’re being delivered to his own body. Beside him he can feel Michonne’s anger, and from the tension in the room everyone else is feeling the same. “That’s enough!” He barks when Daryl isn’t fighting back anymore, his body is simply limp on the ground, and just accepting every single kick. “We’ve learned our lesson!”

“I’ll be the judge of that thank you very much.” Gareth sighs, watching the show with a sick fascination and clearly enjoying the way it was affecting them all. “Lift him up, I can’t see if he’s all curled up.”

It’s sick, Rick doesn’t know how these people have managed to survive for this long but he was determined that they were not going to be around much longer if he had his way. The men continue their beating, one of them holding Daryl in a kneeling positions whilst the other continued to beat at his face, blood spattering over the floor before them all and staining it red. Daryl gives a small moan of pain from within it all, coughing on his own blood as it trickles down his throat and Rick knows he’s got a broken nose from it all.

He doesn’t know what to do to help. If he tries they’d simply hurt him more and opening his mouth just seemed to make Gareth more determined to dish out more pain. Digging his nails into his palms he can feel himself shaking, all the rage he wants to let out being bottled up inside of himself until he feels like he’s going to burst. Each hit echoes in the small space around them, letting him hear every punch and kick, he can see the way Daryl is sagging in their grip, in too much pain to care and drooling on himself between ragged gasps.

“Please stop.” Maggie begs, clinging onto Glenn, there are tears on her cheeks, she looks so frightened for Daryl and Rick wonders if she’s recalling how Glenn was treated in Woodbury. “You’re going to kill him.”

“Nah, if I wanted to kill him I’d put a bullet in his head, this is much more satisfactory.” Gareth shrugs, gesturing to his little show, stepping closer to Daryl and holding a hand for the men to pause for a moment. Rick almost loses it when Gareth twists his fingers into Daryl’s hair, lifting up his friend’s head and inspecting the damage done to his face. “I think that’s enough for today boys.”

He releases Daryl as do the men keeping him up and Daryl slumps to the floor with a groan, hitting the concrete with a muffled curse. The gun stays trained on Daryl, a silent threat but one they were all taking seriously as Gareth and his men all left the room, the leader having the gall to blow a kiss their way before sliding the door locked behind them.

“Daryl!” Rick bolts over, sliding hands around Daryl’s chest to roll him over onto his back, wanting to make it easier for him to breathe as much as he could. The man in his arms chokes, hacking up more blood and it spatters onto them both. “Daryl, fuck.” He doesn’t know how to help with this, he wasn’t a doctor or anything, but thankfully Bob is there, a steady hand on his shoulder and instructing them all with what to do.

“Get him on his side, whichever one hurts less for him. Don’t want him choking on anything if we can help it. I don’t think they’ve broken anything, but he’s going to be severely bruised for a long time. All we can do it hope they didn’t bruise anything internally.” Bob explains, and between the two of them they get Daryl on his side in the recovery position, and Rick can’t help but remove his jacket and ball it up to place beneath Daryl’s head. It’s a small thing, but from the way Daryl groans, he hopes it helps.

“I should have stopped them. Made them take me instead.” He shakes his head, grabbing at the red rag from Daryl’s back pocket and using it to wipe as much of the blood of his friend’s face as possible, hating the way the tables have turned. Around him the others are trying to settle in to their new prison, Michonne is trying to keep Carl calm and stop him from coming over, Maggie and Sasha are trying to do their best to clear away some dust for them all and the newcomers look unsure how to help out.

Glenn comes over, looking as pissed off as Rick does and even if he can’t do much Rick knows he’s just desperate to do something to help their friend. “And how were you going to do that?” He asks him, moving to rip off a shred of his own shirt to use as another cleaning cloth. “Gareth made it very clear this would hurt you more and he was right. It hurts all of us to see this, it’s what he wants.”

Rick grits his teeth again, taking a moment to just breathe and try not to think about smashing Gareth’s smug face against the concrete. “Daryl’s taken enough shit for me, he shouldn’t be forced to take this too. He doesn’t deserve this.” Bruises are already beginning to develop over his face, one eye is swollen shut completely and his nose certainly is broken and bleeding still. Daryl’s lips are burst in three places, his arms have marks from fingers digging in to them to keep him still and Rick doesn’t want to know how bad it all is beneath his clothes.

“None of us deserve this Rick, it’s why we need to get out of her sooner rather than later.” Glenn meets his eye and gives a brief nod before continuing cleaning Daryl up, it’s a pretty useless task without any water but they do their best to get the worst smears of blood off of him. “We need a better plan than my shit idea.”

“It was a good plan, they were just one step ahead of us is all.” Bob reassures, his hands moving down Daryl’s arms and legs, checking for breaks and giving a relieved sigh when he finds nothing. It’s something to cling on to right now. “Now we’re inside we’ve got a better chance. Sure we’re further from the fences, but this wasn’t their intended prison for us, there may be some things they’ve overlooked.”

“Bob’s right, we should use this to our advantage.” Abraham speaks up, standing tall and proud, as if he wasn’t as revolted at Daryl’s mistreatment as the rest of them all were. Rick’s grateful, they need someone to keep their head right now and he didn’t know if he could do that. “Everyone spread out, check every nook and cranny for anything you can. Try to figure out our location in the complex, we go from there.”

Rick gives him a nod to show his gratefulness, he himself doesn’t move to get up, not willing to leave Daryl alone when he was in such a state. Bob and Glenn move off at his request, he knows how Daryl feels about being surrounded by people, and it got worse when he was injured. Everyone else moves about their dimly lit cell, checking and rechecking every single part of all the walls whilst he sits with Daryl.

The day moves on around them all and Rick supposes one of the worst things to deal with was the boredom of it all. Tempers flared, conversation was currently limited to an escape attempt and their options and the fear of the Termites and their motives. Through it all he stays back with Daryl, just watching his breathing and checking on him every so often. The other man doesn’t stir until after their food rations for the day have been delivered, Daryl gives a slight moan and shifts beside him, gasping in pain as it hits his conscious mind.

“Daryl, stay still.” Rick rests a hand on the injured man’s shoulder, keeping him down whilst giving some reassurance, not wanting him to panic. “You’re all right, it’s Rick, you’re okay.” He remembers saying almost the exact same thing to him when he’d awoken in Hershel’s second bedroom, in pain from the arrow wound and confused from the bullet graze. It had taken Daryl a while to fully figure out where he was, and a while for Rick to get him to understand what he was saying.

This time Daryl gives a smirk and a choked laugh, hacking up more blood before spitting it to the side. He looks like hell, taking his time to get himself into a sitting position and slumping against the wall besides Rick, panting but still fucking laughing. Rick doesn’t know what’s so funny, he really doesn’t but he smiles anyway, letting Daryl leans against his side in pain. This whole situation is really screwed up and having Daryl laugh about it really wasn’t the weirdest thing that had happened lately.

“Any reason this is funny to you?” He asks after a while, when he’s managed to get Daryl to take a sip of water from the cup they’d left for him and he’s looking a little more stable.

“Yeah.” Daryl grins, still unable to open one eye but looking like the happiest man on the planet despite the bruises and the situation. “I’m about to tell a cop that I still remember how to pick a guys pocket in the middle of a fight.”

Rick is fucking amazed when Daryl slowly reaches to his side, lifting the vest to reveal a Swiss army knife tucked into his waistband, the blade of it was still out and had probably been digging into him for a while and fuck if they’d mishandled him when he’d been unconscious they could have killed him. “You son of a bitch.” And now he’s laughing too, reaching for the hard won item and checking it over briefly. “Christ Daryl if they realise…”

“What they gonna do? Beat me?” Daryl trails off into a cough, clutching at his chest and Rick holds him steady for a moment, still grinning despite himself. They had a weapon, more than a weapon, it was a tool and one they could use if they kept it hidden. “I can take it, was worth it.”

“You shouldn’t have to take it Daryl.” He sighs, but gives his friend’s shoulder a squeeze anyway before calling everyone else over and sharing their success in a whisper, listening to everyone’s ideas about what to do with it. Through it all Daryl stays quiet, focussing on breathing and taking everyone’s thanks and disbelief with nothing more than a smile and nod. Rick can tell he’s exhausted and his body needs to rest properly to help him heal. Whatever plan they had could wait until Daryl could move easier and besides it would take them a while to work through the details.

That night Rick stays awake for a long time, flicking through the items on the knife and checking through them all, debating which route to escape would be the best one to take. Daryl sleeps next to him, his head still cushioned on Rick’s jacket and his breath rattling every time his chest moves. Honestly Rick is worried for him, but he knew Daryl wouldn’t complain about his injuries, he never had before and he didn’t expect him to start now. If anything Daryl would state he just needed a couple of days to rest before he’d be back to normal, much like Rick always did.

Those couple of days don’t come and the next day they’re awoken by the door to their new cell being shoved open violently and Gareth storms in, a look of fury on his face and a gun being waved about in his hands. “You know I really tried to give you all a chance.” They’re all ushered back against the wall again in their usual positions and between himself and Michonne, Daryl manages to prop himself up.

Gareth is fuming, his face is red and Rick thinks this is the first time he’s ever seen the other man actually lose it. It seemed the way to push his buttons was to ruin his plans and do something unexpected. Rick makes a mental note that it could be a way to get to him later. “Christ I’ve had dogs that listened to the rules better than you all do. Bad behaviour gets punished. You just keep bringing it upon yourself.” Gareth shakes his head, as if he just can’t understand it at all. Rick’s glad in a way, he wants them to be unpredictable.

He tenses when Gareth storms forward, the men behind him still aiming their weapons their way and not allowing them to move when he shouts. “So where is it Archer huh?” Rick keeps his arm around Daryl’s waist, keeping him upright and trying to give him some strength. “You thought we wouldn’t notice it was missing? We’re too fucking smart for you, fucking dumbass redneck piece of shit, give it back and you can avoid punishment.” The gun is shaking in his grip, it’s nice yet terrifying to see Gareth so rattled.

Daryl sneers at him, not caring at the other man getting in his face and pushing forward to do the same until there’s barely an inch between them. “I ain’t got a clue what you’re on about.” He spits, and though he’s still breathing heavily Rick knows there’s no way Daryl would be giving up their one prize and neither would the rest of them. It was too precious to even think of doing.

“Frisk him.” Gareth snarls and in a second Daryl is grabbed from Rick’s side and dragged away from them, leaving him wanting to follow but wary of the guns still on them. Hands swipe over Daryl’s sides, one of the men holding him up whilst the other goes over every limb to check him over.

“He’s clear.” When the men pull back Gareth looks even angrier, pacing back and forth, swinging the gun at his side and clearly desperate not to lose control or to be wrong about something.

“Hold him still, I’ll check myself.” Daryl tenses in their grip and Rick knows if he weren’t already injured Daryl would be kicking Gareth right now. As it was he simply glares and tries to jerk free of their grip when their captor decides frisking isn’t enough. Fingers grab at Daryl’s jacket and shirt, ripping them off from his body and pulling them down his arms until they’re caught at his wrists in an unwanted knot, keeping him steady as they men kick him to his knees. “Oh now would you look at that?” And like that Gareth is acting like his favourite game is back on and Rick can see the way Daryl flinches when the man runs his fingers over his back. “Seems someone else knew this is all you were good for before now.”

Rick knows what he’s talking about, he’s seen the scars before, he’s never asked and Daryl’s never told but he knows, he just knows. The others don’t and he can see the confusion in their eyes when he takes a step forward, knowing this game had already gone too far today. “Get the hell off of him!” He yells and for a second Gareth freezes, looking up to him with a grin and a shrug.

“I will if you tell me where it is?” His voice is so playful, like he’s a child and this is all just one big playtime for him to enjoy on a whim. “Did he pass it off to one of you?” Gareth’s eyes narrow and he nods to the men by the doorway. “Check them all, properly.” Rick sneers but steps forward, legs apart and arms away from his sides in the customary search position. Along the wall everyone follows suit, they all have stern looks on their faces and he knows, he just knows none of them are going to break. Not today, not tomorrow and not for this man before them. It’s something to hang onto.

“They’re all clear.”

“You little fucking shit.” Gareth spits and grabs at Daryl’s hair again, twisting and yanking until Daryl hisses in pain, peering up at him from his unswollen eye and clearly able to see the way the other man was losing it. “Where did you put it? Fucking tell me now.” He’s desperate for an answer he was never going to get and Rick can feel the pride swell in his chest when Daryl gives a lopsided shrug.

“I told you, I dunno what the hell you’re talking about.”

Gareth shoves him away and Daryl flops to one side, unable to keep himself upright until the men grab at him again, one on each arm and stretching his back out fully. There’s a few moments of silence broken only by the pacing of Gareth back and forth across the room, his frantic pace giving away his lack of control over the situation. For a second he pauses, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath in through his nose, calming himself down before he approaches Daryl again and from the look in his eye, Rick is on edge.

“All right, then let’s ask some questions you do know the answer to.” Now Gareth doesn’t yell, his voice is soft, almost caring as he moves back behind Daryl and runs another finger over his back, right between his shoulder blades and making Daryl tense beneath him. Rick can feel Daryl’s anger and unease, he knows what’s there and he knows just how much Daryl never ever mentions them if he can help it. When Gareth continues he traces over odd parts of Daryl’s back and Rick knows he’s running his fingers over every scar there. “How did you get these? They don’t look deep enough to be from a whip, a knife would be too precise, I’m going to say a belt?”

“Get the hell off of me!” Daryl snaps and Rick knows he’s been pushed too far this time. He’s breathing heavily, struggling against his captors and desperately looking anywhere else but at them. His friend is flushed, but takes the punch to the face easily, still wounded and aching, but willing to fight to keep his secret from them all.

“That’s a yes then.” Gareth shrugs, clearly enjoying the control he’s taken back and how Daryl is reacting to it all. “You can’t have been that badly behaved at school though, besides they used to prefer the paddle of the switch, no this just reeks of daddy issues don’t you think?” Rick takes another step forward and Daryl glances up before glaring at the floor again, mottled with bruises and too ashamed to meet his eyes. “Well I think it’s been a while since you’ve had any to add to the collection, we should rectify that.”

Daryl doesn’t look up but Rick can see the change in him almost instantly. He’s trembling, shaking in their grip and though he doesn’t make a sound he struggles even harder, there’s no sense to his movements, it’s more along the lines of blind panic. It’s as if he doesn’t even know where he is anymore and Daryl is panting hard, his head bent down, shoulders trembling and Rick feels desperate to do something to help.

“Stop it, we don’t know what you’re talking about, none of us do, this won’t change anything at all for you.” He tries to keep his voice calm, as if they could negotiate this between them all and find a compromise. As awful as it sounded Rick knew Daryl could take fists easily, but he doesn’t know how he’ll take this, he doesn’t know if it’s going to break him entirely. When the sound of a belt being unbuckled and pulled loose from its loops makes Daryl shrink even smaller in on himself, Rick knows he’s not going to be able to fix this.

The leather cracks through the air and strikes against Daryl’s back with a noise that makes Rick feel sick. Daryl doesn’t gasp or yell, he fucking lets out the quietest sob in the world and it breaks Rick’s heart to hear it. He wants to let himself lose it again, to let every instinct he has taken over him and allow him to kill the man who’d made Daryl make that noise. But all it would do is get them all killed and right now they still had a tiny well hidden spark of hope left. They all need to endure this and pray it wouldn’t break any of them.

It goes on for what feels like years and Daryl doesn’t yell once, Rick wonders just how many years it took him to learn how to do that and he feels sick at the thought. Daryl doesn’t glance up once, Rick thinks his eyes are shut and he wonders if the other man even knows where he is or if he’s lost in memories of a time long before all of this. Down the line he doesn’t need to look to know how they’re all reacting. He knows Carl is watching in horror, unable to tear his eyes away from the sick scene before them, Michonne is tense and angry, and he knows Abraham is having as tough a time as he is to hold himself back. Maggie and Glenn are likely grabbing at each other’s hands and he knows the need to be grounded right now when things were at their most extreme.

Gareth doesn’t stop smiling the whole time, even when Daryl is clearly unable to support himself anymore and would be unable to remain kneeling if he weren’t being held up. The belt flicks back and Rick can see the blood droplets spatter off of it, smearing across the walls with each wrench of Gareth’s arm. Their captor is panting with exertion by the time he’s finished still fucking grinning and wiping off his brow as he looks over them all. “You don’t want to give it up? Fine, go ahead and play dumb. Let’s see how long he lasts.”

The door slams shut behind them with a finality and in a second everyone is rushing forward to where Daryl has been left face down on the floor. There’s a clamour of confusion, too many questions to answer, a lot of worry and fear streaming from everyone and in the end Rick has to break it all when he sees Daryl flinch beneath their hands. “Everyone back off!”

He’s glad when they do so, everyone but Carl moves away and despite Michonne trying to pull him back, his son scoots forward to grab at Daryl’s hand. Rick can see the horror on his face, how he hadn’t known about the scars pale and white beneath the smears of blood on Daryl’s back. Daryl is somehow still conscious and breathing heavily, the bruises on his sides mixing with the fresh blood to make him look completely ragged. Staying at his side Rick knows rolling him over isn’t an option, it was either risk infection or have a hard time breathing and right now Daryl seems to have made that choice for himself.

Carl moves to unknot Daryl’s ruined clothing from his wrists, slipping free the cloth before moving to rip the shirt into even strips. Their time on the road has made him more resourceful and Rick is glad that his son knows what has to be done. Daryl’s fingers twitch a little and before Rick can explain Carl is there again, just holding onto Daryl’s fingers in silence and it seems to be enough for the moment. He doesn’t want to hurt Daryl more than necessary but he knows what’ll happen if they don’t keep the wounds as clean as possible.

Daryl is still shaking beneath him, his face against the ground and looking smaller than usual. Rick doesn’t have any words for what he’s been through and he doesn’t know what he can possibly say to show how grateful he was and how sorry he was for having to allow Daryl to go through that.

“D-don’t touch.” Daryl stutters against the ground, hissing in pain with every movement and Rick can see more fresh blood seep from the open wounds on his back. “N-no more.”

He’s never heard Daryl plead but in the past couple of days he’s heard it more than enough and both times the man had taken pain for him and his family. “No more Daryl.” Carl mutters and Rick watches as his son strokes over the back of Daryl’s hand, nothing more than a soothing presence when Daryl was in so much pain. “I swear, no more.”

When his son looks up to him he has to give a nod, trying to be supportive and though he can make no promises right now Carl needed to be able to do that for Daryl and he wasn’t going to take that away from him.

Their promises are broken the next morning when Gareth returns and Rick is beginning to see this pattern wasn’t going to be broken anytime soon. They were visited every morning, Daryl was hurt in some way and they spent so much time helping him try to recover that they barely had any time to think of an escape plan. Maybe Gareth thought keeping them occupied was his best bet on keeping them here for long enough, or maybe he knew they wouldn’t leave Daryl behind, either way it was beginning to dig deeper and deeper into all of them as the days went on.

Rick figures Gareth doesn’t realise it’s just making them more and more determined.

The days wear on and Daryl doesn’t get much of a break from it all. The good days are where he’s simply threatened with a knife to his throat or gun to his head, at least those days he can recover without new injuries to think of. Their patch up job on his back isn’t the greatest think in the world, but Daryl allows Carl to wash the wounds out every day and Rick gives him his jacket to wear to cover himself up from prying eyes. Rick knows he’s finding this hard as is everyone else, but he knows Daryl is getting worse every day.

It’s not even the physical wounds that are the worst, it’s the words Gareth inflicts upon them and the humiliation there is in every little game. Daryl will curl up afterwards, muttering about needing rest but Rick can see the way his eyes harden every day, how his temper flares easier and he can see more and more of the Daryl Dixon he’d first met in him every day. Daryl was resorting back to what he knew, the way he knew how to defend himself and Rick hated that he couldn’t seem to stop it.

He’s the only one Daryl will go to. Daryl doesn’t talk much anymore unless he has to and he steers clear of everyone else except himself and on some occasions Carl. Daryl will sleep in the corner with Rick as his barrier from the rest of the world, he’ll use the jacket as a shield and only let Rick assess his injuries. It hurts more and more each day to see him get dragged down, but they needed more time and more information before they could do anything to make it all stop.

It’s been a week and it seems Gareth had some new ideas to try out today and Rick couldn’t believe how malicious the other man was getting. Daryl was trembling, still healing, as he steps forward, not even waiting to be called as he had been every day. They’re all resigned to this fate and Rick hated how little they were able to fight it. Gareth only enjoys it more, and he has a particularly sadistic look on his face today.

Daryl doesn’t move a muscle when Gareth walks over in front of him, his fingers dancing over the zipper of the jacket and dragging it down to reveal Daryl’s bare chest. Rick has to clench his fists and bite his lip, everyone else doesn’t watch anymore, but he doesn’t want Daryl to deal with this by himself and it’s the only way he can think of helping him. “You know, when I was younger I always wanted a dog.”

Rick hates Gareth’s voice and the way he’d sound so calm whilst doing all of this. It didn’t affect him in any way, he simply saw it as nothing more than a chore and Rick knows he’s going to take great pleasure in killing them all one day.

“My mom said I couldn’t have one, she said I wouldn’t be able to train it.” Gareth’s hands slide beneath the jacket, running over Daryl’s still healing chest and pushing the coat off of him, revealing the torn shirt cum bandage they’d made for him. “But I think I’m pretty good at getting animals to listen to commands, even if they are nothing but a mutt.” The jacket falls to the floor, kicked aside by Gareth as he paces in a circle around Daryl, trailing fingers over flesh and bandage, uncaring if he catches any wounds and makes Daryl flinch. “Kneel.”

And Daryl does as he’s told, his eyes are blank and devoid of emotion as he drops to his knees, hands by his side and staring at the floor before him. Rick hates how easy this all is for Gareth and for the two armed men at the doorway today. It seems they’re so little of a threat that they don’t need as many handlers anymore. This is what they’d wanted from the start, obedient little prisoners that didn’t take any effort to order around.

Gareth has the fucking gall to pat at Daryl’s head, ruffling his hair and making Daryl flinch again. Rick hates seeing that, especially when he knew how often it was happening now compared to how it had been, when Daryl was comfortable and possibly even happy with his family. Gareth continues petting Daryl before sliding his hands down Daryl’s arms, lifting them up by the wrist until he has Daryl’s hands pressed against the back of his head. Rick knows the position, one in which the captive is unable to quickly get up and attack, it’s one used on prisoners of war and he’s fuming that Gareth has the gall to treat Daryl as such.

Striding forward the guards at the door barely have time to ready their weapons before he’s where he wants to be, on his knees in front of Daryl and mirroring his position. He couldn’t stand back and have this happen anymore, if nothing else Daryl shouldn’t have to go through this alone and he was done with behaving so easily. Lacing his fingers behind his head he moves forward an inch, letting Daryl’s knees press against his own and their foreheads meet.

It’s something between just the two of them, a signal of unity and one he’d used countless times with Shane and he knew Daryl used with his brother. For a moment the blankness in Daryl’s eyes recedes a little and he can see a spark of that fire, a tiny glimmer of understanding and gratefulness from within him. It’s enough and he refuses to move, pressing a little closer when Gareth laughs loudly and Daryl flinches again. He can’t take the beatings, he can’t force Gareth to change his hand, but he can do this and it seems there’s no protest from his captors.

A hand reaches out to pat at his head, the same way it had at Daryl’s and he refuses to drop Daryl’s gaze as he’s cooed at like an animal. “Someone wanted some of their own attention did they? It seems I have two well behaved mutts and do you know how dogs show their dominance over each other?” Rick does not look up at the sound of a zipper, he simply clenches his own fingers in his hair and tries to let Daryl know how much he needs him through his eyes as Gareth fucking pisses over the pair of them.

It’s disgusting, the smell of urine makes him want to gag and he has to blink and cringe a few times when the stream crosses both his and Daryl’s faces. He sneers, but catches Daryl’s gaze when he can, trying to silently let him know that he’s done with waiting, that this was the final fucking straw for him and he wasn’t taking it anymore. Whilst Gareth is preoccupied he gets his toes beneath himself and he can almost feel a shift in the small room as Gareth chuckles above them, still taking his time to piss over them both.

“You sick bastard!”

Carl yells the signal and they all move as one, all hoping, all praying and all as angry as the next one in line. The guards are distracted by Carl’s yell and point the guns towards him, leaving their left sides open for Abraham and Rosita to attack. She stabs the guard in the head with their Swiss army knife, Abraham uses a shoelace to strangle the other and Rick moves as quickly as he can to dive at Gareth. One hand grabs at his cock, twisting and pinching, using Daryl’s shoulder for leverage as he gets to his feet and wraps his fingers around his throat.

Everyone moves as one, grabbing downed weapons, tossing the Swiss army knife between them to work on the hinges of the heavy door as one keeps a lookout. They make it as silent as they can and Rick finds himself watching the panic and fear seep into Gareth’s eyes as he pins him to the wall by the throat, still gripping between his legs tightly and enjoying the pain that runs over his face. The guards are down, dead on the floor and dragged aside, others grabbing their clothes and anything that could be seen as useful to them, practically stripping them completely and Rick doesn’t know if he should be proud or disgusted at how easy it is for them to lot dead bodies now.

It’s done in silence, no more noise than they need to make and as quickly as possible. When the door is off the wall and everyone is ready to move Rick still can’t find the will to let go of Gareth. He wants to do so many things to this man, to make him pay for what he’d done to them, to Daryl over the past week or so. But he’s not like them and through it all he can feel Carl watching him and he will not be a monster if he doesn’t have to be.

A hand falls on his shoulder, still trembling a little and Rick steps to the side, still pinning Gareth by the neck, not willing to let the little weasel make a single sound to give them away. Gareth gasps for breath, his fingers scrabbling at Rick’s arm to be let free and looking completely petrified now he knew he’d lost the control of the situation. Daryl steps forward quietly, still topless, covered in nothing more than bloody bandages and piss, but Rick can see the hope is back in his eyes and so is the man he called brother.

There’s no taunting, no words of hatred or humiliation, Rick figures that would make them just as bad as the man he held before him. Instead Daryl holds out a hand for the Swiss army knife, Glenn pulls out the longest blade before handing it to him and Rick is the only one that watches the light go out of Gareth’s eyes as Daryl sinks the blade straight into his temple. With a twist the blade is free, Daryl wiping the blood off of it on his jeans before flicking it away, handing the tool over to Carl before nodding for them to continue their escape.

Rick doesn’t ask if he’s all right, because he knows he’s not. None of them are and he’s not sure if any of them ever will be again, but he knows they’re going to get through it together as best they can. He works with the others to heave the metal door onto it’s side, using it as a shield for their upper halves as they group together, moving as one to the fence and firing their stolen weapons around it. The bullets of the lookouts ricochet off the metal and they move faster, each step getting them closer to freedom. It feels like a dream as they scale the fence, sprinting as fast and as far as they could away, no one stopping until the sound of gunfire and other people were long gone behind them.

As soon as they pause for a break he’s scanning the group, counting them all and pleased to find everyone accounted for. He hates that he automatically does it in the order Gareth used to call them in, but he can cope with that now they were free. Daryl is beside him, hands on his knees, bent almost double as he tries to catch his breath. His back is seeping again, small rivulets of blood dancing down his skin as he pants, soaking into the fabric of his jeans at the waistband. Rick doesn’t know what to say to him right now, so instead he simply moves close enough to clap a hand on his shoulder, smiling when there’s no flinch in return and when Daryl grins up at him almost in a daze. “Should try to find a river or something.” Daryl chuckles, clearly still in disbelief over everything that had so suddenly happened. “We stink of piss.”

There’s nothing Rick can say to that, instead he finds himself laughing, overwhelmed by the elation of being free, of everyone being alive and safe for a moment. They really do stink of piss, but it doesn’t stop Carl from running over and hugging the pair of them, gripping at Rick’s shirt tightly and burying himself closer. It’s not a lot, but Rick clings tightly to them both, mindful of Daryl’s injuries but so fucking grateful that after having gone through all of it, he had his family safe if only for a moment.


End file.
